


A prince within a monster

by Get_below_my_line_of_vision



Category: L'Homme qui rit | The Man Who Laughs - Victor Hugo, Les Misérables - All Media Types, 웃는 남자
Genre: Angst, Blind Enjolras, Character Death, Fluff and Angst, Jean Valjean owns a circus, M/M, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:27:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24094306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Get_below_my_line_of_vision/pseuds/Get_below_my_line_of_vision
Summary: The Man Who Laughs AUGrantaire was mutilated in the face when he was a child, cursing him to have a permanent smile on his face.But Enjolras isn't scared of him and actually views his scar as a sign of beauty since Enjolras believes Grantaire is constantly happy, something he wishes to feel.(Yes, I'm writing a fic of Hugo's book while using characters from Hugo's other book.)
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 24
Collections: Inspired by an existing story





	1. Chapter 1

The farthest Grantaire could remember was when he was alone in a forest, surrounded by the harsh, icy winds, suffocating him. He was only a toddler and he was wandering around, not knowing why he was there in the first place. All he knew was the intense, bleeding pain from his cheeks. When his hands touched his face, he saw blood stained on his hands. And when he opened his mouth to scream in horror and fear, his mouth felt the most intense pain he felt all his life. All the snow and the freezing air captured his cheeks and clawed him. 

In the midst of agony, he was thankfully able to spot a cottage from far away. Thinking he would receive help, he ran with his numb little legs to the house and banged on the door, waiting politely outside in the harsh weather. But no one answered. Becoming more desperate, he pushed the door open with all his might with his fragile body. 

Inside, he saw an uninhabited home. As a child he wouldn't have been able to survive on his own. Knowing this, he scanned for anyone in the house.  
It was in the bedroom he found a woman. She was wearing thin layered clothing despite the weather and her face was covered by a scarf which linked it to her arms. He cautiously called out to no reply. Carefully, he approached the woman. As he walked towards her, she started to squeak and make incomprehensible sounds. It was as if she was possessed. Swiftly he removed the scarf to see her whole face. The woman was quite dark skinned with empty blue eyes. There was no fat on her face nor her neck nor her arms. In fact her face had no cheeks and had only bones. Her lips were thin and shut. Grantaire wondered how she could've made such noise before until he heard the squeaking again which became so loud he clapped his hands to his ears. The exaggeration of the sound was due to the boy being surprised. Upon opening his eyes, his vision travelled down to the woman's arms.

There was a baby. A petite baby. With the same blue eyes of his mother, but his glinted.  
Nervous, Grantaire picked up the boy. Somehow the baby wasn't looking at Grantaire's face, rather through it. He determined this was due to some sort of trauma. He stared at the small, adorable creature in his arms. He was reaching out to its mother although his face didn't indicate this. He giggled which made Grantaire smile- the first smile he could remember. Reflecting the baby's emotions, Grantaire couldn't help but grin as well which did admittedly hurt his mouth, but he didn't care. He just wanted to be there for the child, from this day onwards. When the child lifted his hands to reach out for Grantaire, he fell in love. He was going to take care of this child.  
Grantaire turned to look at the mother and gave a respectful bow.

Grantaire searched for food within the house but there was no sign of anything edible. Watching the storm outside, he knew he couldn't step outside. Yet the baby was screaming. As if they shared one soul Grantaire also wanted to cry, feeling its pain.  
Grantaire decided he had to leave. However his unbearable pain his mouth would limit his energy. Then he remembered.

Believing in ghosts, Grantaire announced he was entering the room of the mother so he wouldn't be attacked nor possessed. It would have been unfortunate and very dangerous if a ghost took a hold of his soul while he was carrying a baby.  
When he arrived next to the mother once again, the baby calmed down, although still sniffling. Grantaire carefully set the baby down as he unravelled more of the mother as he unwinded her scarf. For a moment he was entranced by her, imagining what made her arrive to this certain point, and what their circumstances were.

When the baby called out for him, Grantaire wrapped the scarf around his face and lifted the little baby. "Let's go." He said, surprised by his own voice.  
There wasn't time to think about this, the baby was distressed, and he needed to search for help.  
Taking a deep breath, he exited the cottage, wrapping the baby in his arms and the scarf as they walked aimlessly into the snowy weather.

As time sluggishly passed, the baby became paler and paler, which heightened Grantaire's worry. He doubted his choice of leaving with the baby. While he walked, his arms not being able to withstand any more weight, he wanted to collapse. Being brought to his knees, he yelled in frustration and stood up and continued to walk.  
It was one of the rare instances in which venting out anger was helpful as a man from far away was able to hear him as the winds carried the young boy's voice.  
It was at the last strand of hope when Grantaire cried with the baby who was no longer making any noises, warmth fleeting rapidly. Whispering, Grantaire asked for forgiveness from the baby, hoping it could hear him and understand that he tried his best. Finally, Grantaire unmasked himself and wrapped the baby fully with the red scarf. As he wailed, he lifted his eyes and thought he was hallucinating. There was a man: a strong, stern man. He was carrying a sword and brutal flashes entered Grantaire's mind, so intrusive that it felt like it dug a part of his brain out. In shock, he fainted, his nose bleeding.  
The man lifted the boy into his shoulder and crouched to lift the scarf only to discover its heavy weight. "My God..." He mumbled as he discovered the baby.

When Grantaire awoke, he was sure he was dreaming. Stepping outside, he saw people of varying bright colours, some walking on wooden sticks, some on a wheel, balancing perfectly. He rubbed his eyes and pinched his cheek to make sure. He gasped, taking the scene in. This place was definitely not heaven, but it felt like it. From almost dying, he was saved and transported into a marvellous world.  
Then a large hand grabbed his shoulder which made Grantaire plea for forgiveness immediately.  
The man behind him cracked a smile. He lead the boy to a separate room, where a baby lay in a crib. He was squeaking, but not like earlier, the baby was smiling.  
"Are you an angel?" The boy asked as he took the man by the hand.  
He knelt down. "Don't worry. I will treat him with care."  
Grantaire smiled. Then his expression dropped as he cocked his head in confusion, "What about me?"  
The man got his index fingers and dug them softly to his cheeks which stung. "What a lovely smile you've got there." The man gave the most innocent smile.

This was how Grantaire became the laughing stock, not that he minded. Even when he looked at his own reflection he couldn't help but laugh at the pathetic man in the mirror. And as he laughed he saw drops water escape his eyes fall to his red lips. Then his vision usually became blurry.  
From the bottom of his heart Grantaire was grateful for his situation. He was given a home and he was able to watch the child grow, whom Valjean named Enjolras. He was glad that at least his horrifying scars had some sort of usefulness.

In the morning until afternoon, he was seen as the main attraction in which he would unravel himself from the red scarf he found to reveal his disgusting cut. The scar was an extension of his lips, curved upwards so even when he showed neutral emotion he would be wearing a creepy smile.  
This was seen as humorous by the customers and it made Grantaire agree with them. He remembered one woman who sighed and muttered "It's a shame, he was handsome when he was wearing the scarf."  
That was enough for Grantaire to believe he would be accepted by someone in his future. All he had to do was hide his unwanted feature. He held the sentence close to his heart.  
In all honesty, the best part of the whole day was the night, when he could eat with Valjean and see Enjolras; he had grown to be more beautiful and charming than he ever imagined. Grantaire felt sadness for Enjolras would not be able to see how heavenly he looked. But he also felt the most fortunate man as Enjolras wouldn’t be able to see his face. Most definitely he didn’t want to reveal that he had such a gruesome scar; he didn’t even know if Enjolras knew about their past. From what he gathered, he was just a young visitor who ate with them from time to time out of pity for his despicable face.

His greatest joy would manifest itself whenever Enjolras would open his mouth. Usually he would try to entertain his guest by talking about how much he was able to study with his father. He once chatted excitedly about the stars. Due to his blindness, he had never seen them, but he had asked those around him how they looked and he found them magnificent to even think about. He talked about how the Greeks and Romans thought they were gods, and from hearing how they looked, he believed they were gods themselves, sparkling without any shame in total darkness. Without the night sky, they wouldn’t stand out, he echoed while nodding, relaying a quote Valjean told him.  
Grantaire on the other hand hardly spoke. At times he would’ve complimented Enjolras and talked like an old friend to Valjean, but he was always too frightened of scaring the blond man away.  
All this time, Grantaire could not figure out Enjolras wasn’t chatty around anyone else and that he tried to connect with him. Even before when Valjean revealed how Enjolras came to this place.

One night Enjolras couldn’t sleep as he replayed the dinner sequence in his head ritualistically. He had heard about blushing, that if a person had intense emotion towards the other their cheeks would change colour. On this night he was constantly over aware of his cheeks, feeling the sense of warmth there, frightened that maybe Grantaire was able to see him.  
In Enjolras’ dreams, he imagined Grantaire to look like every other person he saw. Normal, yet charm radiating through his personality. More than anything he wished he could feel Grantaire’s face so he could dream of him in better detail.

During the day, Enjolras wondered about, allowing him to build a map inside his mind of the circus. However at night, when he was alone, he wanted to venture out. He was never allowed outside, but he wanted to sense the stars. He wanted to feel the embrace of the cool wind.  
So, Enjolras took a disobedient step, strolling near his residence, but enough to feel satisfied. There were no monsters. He felt safe.

Suddenly, Enjolras was pulled backwards with a familiar voice, “What do you think you’re doing?”  
The man grabbed him by the hand and started to drag him back, “Grantaire! Please!”  
The man stopped in his tracks, his hand trembling.  
“Grantaire?” He stammered.  
“Are you afraid of me?” He almost whispered, scared of the answer.  
Enjolras almost gasped. “The opposite!”

Grantaire held his breath, Enjolras could feel. “Let me,” He lifted his hands for Grantaire to hold them tightly, “Let me feel your face.”  
His response was silent.  
“I want to know what you look like.”  
Grantaire hesitated before letting go of his hands.  
Enjolras made sure he would remember every detail. When his fingers travelled down his mouth, it was unreal. It was a scar that had been stretched.  
He grunted.  
Instead, Enjolras softly pressed his hands onto his cheeks. “You’re beautiful.”  
He could feel Grantaire being taken back, as if snapped out of a trance.  
“You’re smiling, Grantaire. How wonderful, to be able to constantly feel happiness. I want that.”  
He smiled genuinely.  
Enjolras dropped his hands slowly, not wanting to let go of him, but not wanting to act like he was overly dependent on him.  
Somehow Grantaire was able to read his mind and held his hand. He breathed in, swinging their hands. Enjolras couldn’t help but let out bubbles of laughter.

“Do you want to know what the stars look like now?” Grantaire asked softly.  
Enjolras held his hand tighter, “Yes.”  
The two talked for hours until Grantaire finally walked him back to his residence. Enjolras asked for Grantaire and him to spend more time together. Grantaire agreed, thinking this wasn’t going to last long, so he didn’t hold back his willingness to be with Enjolras.

From that day on the two were inseparable and Grantaire made sure to visit Enjolras everyday. Jean Valjean was quick to catch on. He asked Grantaire to speak in private. When Grantaire paced around, expressing his love for Enjolras, he was cut off. Not by the old man’s words, but by his friendly expression. It was the smile he gave frequently to Enjolras. “Treat him well.” He almost sang, joyful that if anyone was going to be with his adopted son, it was going to be him.

From then, the established pair became the most ideal lovers, always holding hands and speaking poetry one another. The doubts Grantaire previously had disappeared without a trace. All of them. Every little doubt vanished whenever he held Enjolras in his arms.


	2. Chapter 2

As they were a circus, Grantaire and Enjolras were used to travelling.  
It was up north where they were newly stationed when Jean Valjean was pulled for a private talk with a mysterious man. This wasn’t the first time. A lot of men would visit the circus for guilty pleasure and would not desire their identity to be revealed. Down south, there was little stigma, but the further north they travelled, the closer they were to the residence of the Royalty, more shame there was. The size of the customers never changed however, but they were harder to please.

“What do you want?” Valjean sat, relaxed. He guessed there would be a petition for a prostitute. Countless lonely men asked him that. But Valjean always rejected anyone who treated his people as objects. They may be in a circus but he had a soul.  
“There’s a lady,” The man lowly spoke, “She really likes the performance of one of your…” He scanned the room, “workers.”  
Valjean lifted his eyebrow. “You mean with one of the women who works for me?” Personally he held no grudge against homosexuality, but it was no secret that type of relationship was not particularly accepted. In case he was going to be arrested for any ties with the sexuality, Valejean tried to look offended that a woman wanted to be with another woman. Truthfully Valjean only knew of relationships between men, and the idea of two women were new.  
“No, no,” The man shook his head, “With one of your men. The ugly one.”  
“Clarify.” He ordered. He suppressed his smile for he knew what the outcome would be. There was no chance he would allow such arrangements. But it was amusing to watch the person try.  
Instead of replying verbally, the man hooked his fingers to the edges of his mouth and pulled it upwards, revealing a terrifying smile. He quickly unhooked his fingers. Valjean found the man to be more ugly than Grantaire.  
“No.” He scoffed.  
“You don’t seem to understand the situation here, Valjean. She’s a highborn who has been unhappy for several years. Hardly any smiles have cracked her face; but with that man, she laughed. She enjoyed his presence. I want- I need to take him with us.”  
Valjean sighed heavily indicating his boredom.  
“I’ll give you money.”  
He held his breath. Despite owning a business, Valjean had the deep desire for money. It might have begun ever since he was young, abandoned in the streets, left to fight for scraps. But Grantaire was like a family to him. Just like everyone in the circus. He couldn’t break that bond for the sake of shiny metals. Besides, with Enjolras, he felt fulfilled; money was meaningless to him now, no matter how much his innate drive ordered him to feel otherwise.

Watching his response, the hooded man decided to follow another plan: “My Lady is very rich-”  
“You’ve said.” He crossed his arms.  
“-Which means she has guards. Weapons. Men who devoted their lives for her. Love is the most powerful force in the world. Imagine what these men could do to just make her laugh now they know how.”  
Valjean laughed. “Are you threatening me?”  
The man pouted. “Are you refusing my kind offer?”  
Valjean stared at the man, breathing unusually due to anger, and perhaps panic. Travelling North meant meeting powerful people, but none of them ever threatened him. Gritting his teeth, he asked, “When do you need him by?”  
The man smiled. “Now.”

It was the middle of Grantaire’s performance; he heard the same loud laughter from a woman in the front. He personally thanked her and made her call him handsome. It was working as he was gaining more attraction.  
However Valjean cut it short as he dragged him off-stage by his hand. “But, Valjean, I’m not finished!”  
“You are now!” He regrettably snapped.

Valjean was careful not to run into the man again as he snuck Grantaire into his residence. Enjolras was inside, surprised by the sound of the door entering. He made his way to the door to hear a verbally vicious argument.  
He could hear Grantaire sniffle and his voice break. Enjolras tried to reach out for him. But Grantaire didn’t hold his hand.  
“I have to stay here!” He shouted.  
“I have no choice!” Valjean yelled. “They threatened the circus! God knows what they could do.”  
“So this is about your business? I thought I was more than that!”  
“This is about family. You’re no more important than the rest of ‘em. They’re all my family, Grantaire!”  
Enjolras wanted to cry, he desperately reached for Grantaire, torn by the two important men in his life. “Father, do not speak like this!” He placed himself between the two in order to protect Grantaire, “If you send him away, you’re sending me away with him!”

There was a short silence before Valjean’s voice broke, “Please don’t do this to me.”  
Enjolras straightened his back and stood tall. He was taught by Valjean how to appear frightening by being confident even when being terrified at the very core. For all his life he was thankful for Valjean having saved his life, and so leaving him was a harsh feeling to experience. But he bit his tongue to stop himself from apologising.  
“Enjolras…” Valjean’s voice was tired and soft. “Grantaire is going to be taken in to be a jester. He won’t be a guest. He won’t have privileges.”  
“Who’s stealing him?” Enjolras demanded.  
Grantaire delicately wrapped his arms around him. “I’m reminded how much Valjean cares for you. I need you to be safe, Enj. I can’t imagine my life in which you’re hurt… for me.” He stroked Enjolras’ cheek- this was his indication that he was going to kiss him. As their lips met, neither of them wanted to let go. Parting away meant losing each other.

Valjean led Grantaire to the woman who had previously been entertained by him. She had a sweet smile and for a second Grantaire believed if he explained the context, then he would be able to return.  
Then again, he remembered Valjean’s warning when he was young. Trusting the rich would never end well. Either manipulate them fully or make them trust him completely before revealing anything true about himself.  
Valjean wasn’t the wisest man Grantaire knew, but he valued his small lessons. After all he was the only parent figure he had. From now on, he had to be extra cautious: there was going to be no one to fall back on.  
Although he knew what this deal would mean, it only properly dawned on him he was isolated; just like he was when he was a child.

The Lady’s name was Éponine Thénardier. Upon hearing her last name, Valjean became stiff. Since he was too afraid to talk or be out of line, Grantaire never questioned what significance her name held.

It was until he came to face to face with a man after hours of travelling when he found out about the importance of her name. It was the name of the soon-to-be-wife of Marius Pontmercy, next in line to the throne. Pontmercy, despite looking like a Prince and acting well as one, was not related by blood to the crown. That privilege was on a baby that died many years ago. The King was very ill and the Queen was dead. Marius was only placed into Royalty because their luck was shallow.  
The only reason Grantaire knew this was because Enjolras once asked for a fantastical story yet Grantaire asked for a tragic story. As a compromise, Valjean told them a piece of real history; the mix of misfortune and fanciness.

After snapping out of his dumbfounded shock, Grantaire bowed. This immediately made Marius laugh out loud. “And he has manners!” He threw his arms in the air. “Wonderful choice, my Éponine. You’ve brought laughter and sunshine into this Palace.” He hugged Éponine and kissed her hair.  
Grantaire imagined Enjolras in his arms. He rubbed his hands together out of nervousness that the tears in his eyes were going to be visible to them. Rather, Grantaire was the one who noticed something: Éponine wasn’t smiling back. Her face was flat. That was when Grantaire gained sympathy for the woman. It was torturous to be separated from his home, but he knew this was for a good cause; not necessarily to him, but for the Lady.

Living in the Palace was much more challenging than in the circus. There was an intense pressure to make everyone laugh. He had to attend lessons to learn how to balance well and juggle and whatnot. Sometimes he would see Éponine watch from the doorway before turning away once she realised she was spotted by him.  
In spite of their unfair difference in wealth and respect, Grantaire couldn’t help but feel empathetic. Whenever he saw the woman, her eyes were dull and her body was always consumed by the shadows. From her posture, it was evident she didn not have a lot of energy.  
There was this need for him to entertain her, to make her feel… alive.

Except her fiance didn’t share the same joy as she did. Usually before Grantaire began his performance, grinning mad, Marius left the room. At times he would stay with Éponine, probably trying to see the comedic value in the pathetic man. As usual, he would fail to do so.

The time they spent alone together was mainly of silence. He would embarrass himself by dancing in ridiculous exaggeration and she would give out a sad smile in response.  
It was only when Grantaire gave jokes and acted like his normal self she enjoyed herself. Noticing this pattern, Grantaire only acted like himself. No make-up, no fake persona, just his true self.

As days passed the two would become closer and closer. Éponine seemed to really enjoy his company. And that made him content. She was happy. This also meant Éponine liked him for who he was. As he prepared himself to reveal his situation with Enjolras, he closed his eyes, breathing deeply as she sat next to him. Reading the incorrect signal, she grabbed his face and kissed him.  
Grantaire pulled away, but it was too late. In the doorway was Pontmercy.  
“Shit.” Grantaire said under his breath.

He knew there was no point in arguing. Everyone was loyal in this country. If there was anyone to blame, it was the one with lesser status.

When he was shoved into a jail, he was free to roam in the dark, but he knew he wasn’t alone. There was a presence- a quiet one, but due to the lack of light he couldn’t find it.  
Behind him, the door shut harshly with one guard outside.  
A murmur echoed in the room.  
Grantaire tried to locate the source of the sound.  
“Can you tell me the year? I have forgotten the time…” The man sluggish spoke.  
Grantaire’s eyes finally became adjusted to the darkness and he was able to see a silhouette. As he approached it, the blob took a form of an almost naked man with long, waxy hair and with hardly any fat. Immediately he wanted to vomit, thinking he was watching himself in the future.  
The man laughed. “Oh, how wonderful if you would stay with me forever.” The man tried to approach him but bounced back to the wall with a clunk sound. He was in chains.  
Grantaire prayed in his mind of how grateful he was that he was not bound like him.

“What did you do?” The man asked.  
Since this man was a prisoner, Grantaire tried to defend himself; perhaps this man would understand him “Lady Thénardier… made an advancement to me.”  
The man chuckled.  
“Against my will.” Grantaire added, thinking this was obvious.  
The man breathed deeply in. “Well, I actually committed something, boy. Something worse than a kiss. Or whatever follows a kiss.”  
Grantaire walked closer to the man, eager to hear his story. There was nothing else to do anyway.  
“I killed a man.”  
Blood rushed out of Grantaire’s head, as if blood was trying to run away from the man. As a result, Grantaire felt dizzy.  
“Not just any man. A noble man.” He shrugged. “I did not mean to. It was an accident. So I turned myself in.”  
Now it was Grantaire’s turn to laugh, but he swallowed it down, allowing the man to continue.  
“My occupation… meant… I was paid to… mutilate. I was sadistic, as people believed. But I had morals. No killing. So when I accidentally left a man to bleed to death, I confessed.”  
Grantaire hesitated, his voice fragile, ready to break at any moment, “How many… did you mutilate?”  
The man cackled thunderously, “I do not keep count, my boy. I just wanted to smell money, feel the weight of the gold in my hand.” He found him so funny, he took a liking. He asked, “What’s your name?”  
“Grantaire.”  
“Grantaire? What an unusual name.” He clicked his tongue. “I knew a man named Grantaire.”  
But at this point he had lost interested and began walking away from this insane, rightfully-imprisoned man.  
“It was the name of a man who helped me several times. His last job with me spooked him so he left.” He chuckled. “I kept screaming out his name in anger.”

Grantaire’s head began to screech in pain. He clasped his hands to his skull. There was something his brain was trying to suffocate. There was an itch that he could not identify. “I can hear it.” He shook his head, believing himself to be a maniac. “I mean I can imagine clearly what your voice was. Years ago.”  
The man laughed. “Impossible. You were not born then. It was twenty years ago.” The man continued, “There was no one else there! Did the winds carry my voice through the monstrous waves of time?”  
“No!” Grantaire snapped. His behaviour was alien to him, but he couldn’t help it. It was so frustrating. He remembered the man’s voice. “Who are you?” He demanded.  
“Why, you don’t know? I’m Montparnasse.”  
The pain was lifted. Not because he found the last puzzle piece, but because the name didn’t mean anything to him. It must’ve been nothing but a headache.

Tired of the damp room, Grantaire tried to forget his misfortune by trying to sleep on the opposite side of where Montparnasse was chained.  
It was difficult, but as the sun rose the next day, he was awoken by Montparnasse shuffling and making distracting noises with his chains.  
“What?” Grantaire snapped.  
He was finally able to see Montparnasse. The man was as repellent as he imagined him to be.

“I know you.” The man said.  
“I am not the Grantaire you think of.” He shook his head.  
“No, but you remind me of a child.”  
Grantaire scrunched his face in disgust. “Don’t tell me- you mutilated children too…?” As he finished the question, something triggered in his memory and the whole world unravelled before his eyes. He remembered the time before the harsh snows of the winter and the scorching pain in his mouth.  
“You…” Montparnasse said.  
Grantaire imagined his hair becoming shorter and his beard missing and being a healthy size. The background transformed into a ship in the black sea. “Y- You…” Grantaire shakily pointed, realising his real name wasn’t Grantaire. It was something else. He assumed it was his name due to Montparnasse shouting it repeatedly, drilling it into his skull. His brain found whatever the event it was to be too traumatising so it buried it. At the same time it made him remember fragments of it.

“You’re the child I abandoned, far from here.” Montparnasse spoke.  
“Y- you mu… mu…” He touched his face. “You did this!” He shouted, painfully grabbing his cheeks. “You made me a monster!”  
Montparnasse’s eyes widened. “I did not commit the act out of my own willingness!” He explained, raising his voice over Grantaire yet retaining a calm, cool tone, “It was under the orders of the King.”  
Instantly Grantaire believed the man to be a liar. “Why on earth would he-”  
“Because you were his son!” He bursted. After breathing heavily, he spoke in a normal volume which in comparison felt like a whisper, “The King didn’t give me an explanation on the reason why. But I found the task to be suspicious. And why would the King pay me so much for a pointless job? Then I saw the kid- you. You looked so much like the King. Then I realised why I was hired. I was to make sure you would not be recognised when you died. So I took Grantaire with me to leave you in a place you may die. I left it to God to decide your fate. It was either that or watch a little boy be killed before my eyes by a sword.”  
“Why would he want to kill me?”  
“The Queen couldn’t even look at you nor me in the eye. You must’ve been an illegitimate child of the King.”

Grantaire took several steps back before falling back on his bottom. He heard someone rush outside the jail but he paid no attention to it.

“I left you there in the storm…” Montparnasse muttered. “How…?”  
Grantaire did nothing but stare back at the murderer, shocked in disbelief.

The door swung open and the guard pointed at him.  
“Is it true?” One of the men shouted at the chained man. “Is he the next in line?”  
He nodded.  
The confession was enough.

It was not a secret that the King had many lovers, so the nobles were quick to believe this story, especially with Grantaire’s scar on his mouth.

At last he was able to meet Éponine again but she seemed horrified to see him- replicating the same face people pulled when seeing him for the first time.  
Pontmercy was quick to abandon her which angered Grantaire. Huffing, he watched Éponine, her eyes becoming glassy.  
Grantaire was taken away by the nobles but when he returned back Éponine was no longer the woman he saw her last as. She was flirtatious and offered wine. She was a completely new woman.

And Grantaire was a completely new man.

They sat together Éponine apologised for the kiss and admitted she should’ve stopped them imprisoning him. “But, now, as your fiancée, and soon your wife, I will do my very best to satisfy you.”  
Grantaire paused. For a second, Enjolras flashed in his mind. His heart ached. “What do you mean by ‘fiancée’? I can’t marry you, Éponine.”  
She snorted. “You have to. You’re the next heir.”  
He rubbed his hands. “No! I need to leave!”  
“What?” She tried to place her hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him.  
“I can’t stay here, Éponine. I have a lover back home. I have to return back to him!” Grantaire realised he made a grand mistake by mentioning Enjolras' pronoun. He rushed to Éponine’s side and held her tightly. “You have to understand. It’s love. I’ve been in love for many, many years; the spell is unbreakable." He tried to read her. "I have to get back home.”  
Éponine’s eyes became glassy once more as she cried. “I’m trying my best.”  
It was true this situation must have been stressful for her, he had no doubt in his mind. As gratitude he kissed her on the forehead.

As their first night as a couple, Grantaire felt awkward to sleep in the same bed, and Éponine recognised this and offered a separate room. He thanked her and promised whatever comes of this, he would treat her well. She nodded, gave a bow, and presented a forced smile as she looked downwards.

When the door shut, Grantaire drew the curtains back and felt the cold window. He imagined melting through it and running off in the night.  
Instead, he climbed into the large bed and tried to sleep. This was proven to be difficult as something covered his mouth and almost suffocated him. Passing out from the lack of air, when he awoke he was in a court.

He was on a trial for practising evil. No one represented him. The Judge looked down on him and smiled maliciously, “Do you have anything to add?”  
“What am I on trial for?” He bluntly asked.  
Everyone roared with laughter in the room.  
The Judge shook his head. “Homosexuality.”  
Grantaire bit his tongue. He shouldn’t have trusted anyone. He should’ve listened to Valjean. Valjean… Grantaire stood up. “I plead guilty.”  
The Judge’s face softened in surprise and the room fell silent. 

Rapidly he was pushed around violently before he landed himself back into a prison. He knew as the Prince he would have given a more pleasant jail, even if he was homosexual.  
It was a room with a glued shut window and a huge bed. It was like any other room, but there was a sense of imprisonment. Not like he didn’t feel that in the first place.

Grantaire had remembered a story Jean Valjean had told him. It was when he was rebellious. Valjean told him he knew what he was feeling. Rejecting the idea of it, Valjean explained he was imprisoned once. Grantaire listened in. Then, Valjean told him in detail how he escaped.

In truth Grantaire pleaded guilty in order to be imprisoned as quickly as possible. This way, he could return back home as swiftly as possible.  
Valjean escaped prison and was never caught again. Grantaire was going to be his successor.  
Without caring for the consequence he nonchalantly broke the window. The sound was loud enough to attract the guards outside. Their reaction was so fast it was almost instantaneous to the smashing sound. That was probably the reason why they were ordered to guard the room. Once they entered the room, however, the prisoner was gone.  
All that was left was nothing but pieces of fragmented glass and the cold, lonely winds travelling inside the room.


	3. Chapter 3

The weather was cold ever since Grantaire left Enjolras. The outside air didn’t feel like freedom anymore. It meant isolation. Enjolras was all alone, feeling abandoned. Valjean would at times try to comfort him, telling him that Grantaire would be living a luxurious life; so he must be living a life without pain. Valjean encouraged him to do so as well. However, Enjolras, with his eyes teary, would grip tight of his father’s hand and whisper, “But he would be mocked. He is not a human to them.”  
Valjean’s silence was all Enjolras needed to understand that his father agreed with him.

Since roaming outside was a harsh and cruel reminder of Grantaire’s absence, Enjolras began to stay home. There was nothing to do but he never felt bored. All his mind could gravitate around was his love. He must be happy in his new life. And yet Enjolras felt guilty for not being able to sprout wings and fly away. He was grounded, anchored to this life. A life without Grantaire.

Eventually Enjolras began to cough and sneeze. This transformed into sweating and weakness in the knees. Energy drained out of him and gradually his room was his world. At times Enjolras would lift himself to sit up and reach out for his window to feel the glass. It was cold. That was how he was able to tell the weather. The stormy sky above constantly rained sadness and misery to Enjolras. Reminding him of his loss. Reminding him he would never return.

The situation did not improve and Enjolras was chained to his bed. Moving his arms was so painful Valjean had to feed him and take care of him completely. Since this limited the amount of control Valjean had on his circus, he disbanded it indefinitely. He hoped Enjolras could get better but there was no concrete proof. Every day he was falling into the depths of a continuous canyon of anguish.

One day Valjean held his hand and squeezed it. There was hardly any energy left in Enjolras. All he could respond was with a weak grasp.  
“He will come.” Valjean gravely said.  
“I don’t want him to come.” Enjolras muttered as he let pain wash over him, devouring his insides. He rathered him to die than for Grantaire to return back to a dirty circus. Grantaire deserved to be happy. Even if it meant he was mocked and teased. At least he would even catch a glimpse of the life he deserved.

When Valjean depressingly opened the door, guilty about leaving his son once more, he paused. Enjolras could hear the cease of footsteps and the blockage of Valjean’s throat as he made incomprehensible sounds. It was of shock.

“What is it, father?” Enjolras turned his head. Desperately he wanted to stand up and protect his carer only to be bound by fragility. “Father?”  
Valjean made a weak floating sound, as if his voice was searching for him. “He… He’s here.” Valjean said. “He returned.”  
There was a slight part of him who understood what he meant. “Father, do not lie to me.” Enjolras said, wanting to be deaf. “Do not feed my despair hope. It will grow forever that way. I want to get rid of it, not let it expand.” Enjolras shook his head in pain.

An unfamiliar pace of footsteps grew louder and louder until it stopped. Then the person collapsed on their knees. Enjolras wasn’t frightened for he knew who the man was. He just didn’t want to believe it.

Gently the man stroked Enjolras’ hair. There was nobody else he could be. But denial gnawed at him. With tears overwhelming his eyes, Enjolras whispered, “It’s not you.”  
The man was serious but Enjolras could hear his voice be passed through a smile, “It is.”  
His hands rose in search of the man’s face. “I cannot hallucinate you. This must be a dream.”  
Carefully, the man guided him to his face. From the top, to the bottom, his hands explored, just like when they first got to know each other, under the starry night sky.  
His fingertips brushed over the man’s cheek. It was a smile. A permanent one. Enjolras sniffled as he weakly called out “Grantaire?”  
“Yes, my love?” He replied, his voice broken, full of love and pity and guilt. “What has happened?”

Enjolras found himself suddenly shy. He was in his bed and Grantaire was leaning over him. He was embarrassed but overjoyed. He imagined life unfolding before him as a married couple. He imagined him as a healthy husband, lying in bed as Grantaire reached out for him. They were under the bright sky. The moment was perfect.  
Deluded by his imagination, Enjolras almost sang, “I am with you. Nothing is wrong.”  
There was a pause before Enjolras could hear a slight chuckle from his lover. Immediately he smiled back.  
“Yes,” Grantaire stroked his hair once more. “Everything is fine.”  
“You are here with me.”  
“Yes, I am.” Grantaire once more reached for his hand and placed it to his cheek as he leaned in.  
Enjolras could feel something happening to his arm but he wasn’t able to detect a specific touch. But he knew what Grantaire wanted. He smiled as he waited.

It was the softest kiss Grantaire gave. It wasn’t deep nor was it too long. It was an innocent kiss, just like their innocent love.  
As Grantaire was closing his eyes, the scene changed. The circumstance altered. They were a loving couple, kissing each other in the morning. Grantaire was waking Enjolras up with a warm kiss.

But as their lips parted Grantaire felt dread. Sensing the inner demons growling inside him, Grantaire dared to open his eyes to discover Enjolras perfectly still.  
Grantaire stroked his cheek, in denial of what had happened. He called for Valjean and kissed Enjolras’ forehead.

Valjean walked into the room, not expecting what unravelled before him.  
Grantaire turned to face Valjean. “He’s…” He choked, not able to finish the sentence.  
Horrified, Valjean pushed past him and fell, kneeling beside his son. Wailing he hugged the corpse. Enjolras had died.  
Valjean wept, “I didn’t even get to say goodbye to him.” He dug his head to his son’s chest, stifling much of his crying.  
Grantaire watched on, feeling a sword rip his heart open. “He was a prince.” He said. “He deserves a royal funeral.”  
Valjean hugged his son for the last time and carried him. His tears were hot and boiled his skin. Staring deep into Grantaire’s eyes, he agreed.

In grand poetry, it was to be said when the country needed them the most they shall rise from death. To ease this, the people of the country would release the royal bodies to the waters. There, they would be protected by the river spirits until they would rise. It was a tradition only for the admired souls.  
As Grantaire was a prince, he deemed Enjolras to be his partner- worthy of such tradition.

He followed the steps. The two searched for a wooden boat, fashioned it with leaves, and placed Enjolras to lie in the middle.

Someone had to deliver him to the spirits below, to carefully let the body descend. Valjean squeezed his eye shut to force himself to accept the reality. He then volunteered he should do so. Yet when he looked into Grantaire’s eyes, he understood what this meant to him.  
Valjean had experienced compassion before. Grantaire had not. It was only Enjolras for him. Even Valjean was aware he had favouritism. So instead he passed the duty to him. Grantaire almost seemed to beg with his eyes not to do so, but Valjean pressed.  
At last Grantaire nodded.

In the boat, Valjean grabbed the end of the boat and muttered, “You were my son too. Forgive me for all I have done.”  
Grantaire listened to the wave hit the boat. “You have nothing to apologise for. You gave heaven to my love.”  
With that, Valjean with all his might pushed the boat into the sea. Grantaire was quick to row as the old man watched the two figures set off into the dark sea and the blue sea. He was so focused he didn’t realise he too was walking into the waters. He looked down to realise his feet covered in water and foam. It was difficult not to follow the two.

As Grantaire rowed, his eyes would rarely leave Enjolras. He was the love of his life. And fate wanted to rip him away from him. Anger crawled to his throat but upon seeing Valjean far away, he felt calm. At least life gave some people who would love Enjolras; and Grantaire was in debt to the old man.

When the boat sailed far enough, Grantaire could only see a blurry figure from the shore.  
Elegantly Grantaire lifted Enjolras and guided the body to the edge of the boat, tipping it. As his hands touched the light waves, Grantaire’s tears dropped to the body. Slowly descending, the waters embraced Enjolras. Grantaire didn’t want to let go but he knew he had to. 

Sobbing, he understood his future.

He let go.

Promptly he stood up. Rotating around, he saw the shore. Facing the old man, his guardian, Grantaire gave a sincere bow. It lasted for several seconds- the amount a person would give to a king.  
When he lifted his head he saw the old man walk into the waters. He knew what was going to happen. He knew what Grantaire was going to do.  
There were faint callings to him, but Grantaire didn’t let it stop him.

He stepped into the sea.

Sinking, he searched for Enjolras. It was simple to find him. All he had to do was search for a star. A bright star that glowed in the dark. That was Enjolras.

Grantaire reached out for his love as they floated downwards together. For the last time they embraced. Feeling euphoric, Grantaire laughed underwater, producing multiple bubbles to be set free, rising above. His lungs ached but Grantaire knew that tranquility would soon come. His vision went dark as the waters turned black. But he could see Enjolras clearly, illuminating.

As the two sank Grantaire saw a glowing light from far away, behind Enjolras. He stared at it. Then another bright light shone above it. Then another beside it. Yellow lights appeared and awed Grantaire.

The bright lights floated above the two, producing light in the dark gloomy depths. Grantaire smiled. They were stars. And once again, the two were under them, united. The two bodies sank as the lights gradually disappeared. Soon, the sea returned to its black emptiness, the shadows swallowing them whole. 

An echo weaved into the waves. It was a call of a father from the shore. It spread across the whole sea although it was too late. The two lovers had disappeared into the depths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know corpses float after weeks, but let's pretend science doesn't exist for the sake of EMOTIONS.
> 
> Thank you for taking your time and reading this. 
> 
> Comments are always appreciated xx

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write this as I became acquainted with 'The Man Who Laughs' when I was listening to a musical called 웃는 남자.  
> If you can either understand Korean or just like good tunes, I highly advise you to listen to it as it is beautiful.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
